


what wise men say (only fools rush in)

by cvptains



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Oblivious Tony Stark, Pining Tony Stark, Tony Stark Tony Stark, also background sambucky, where everything is fluffy and nothing hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 10:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19332640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvptains/pseuds/cvptains
Summary: There's a tiny name tag on the shirt and in dark red, it says, in elegant writing, Steve.Tony blinks at the greeting, then breathes out, “You could do a lot of things for me.”Where Tony's late to a lot of meetings but it pays off when he meets Steve Rogers at Barnes's Bakery.





	what wise men say (only fools rush in)

**Author's Note:**

> the title's corny, i know, sue me
> 
> also i completely abuse my writer's license, and none of my information on bakeries makes sense. or art galleries. it's inaccurate. it's cliched. but it's cute <33
> 
> i wrote this awhile ago, but only now thought to publish it, so. hope you enjoy this fluff w a bit of angst!!

“Hi, Pep, please don't kill me, I'm gonna be there in like, three seconds, so,” Tony gnaws his lip, “yeah, don't kill me, please!”

He hangs up and thunks his head on the back of the car seat, his hangover clouding his vision at the impact. He groans.

“Hap, ignore what I just said to Pepper and take me to the nearest place that sells extreme amounts of caffeine,” Tony orders, sliding his sunglasses on.

Forty minutes late to a meeting that Pepper had practically written in red permanent marker across his forehead to not miss wasn't gonna make being half an hour late any worse, so he might as well wake himself up more for the lecture and guilt trip he's gonna get.

“No offense, boss, but I told you not to go home with that blonde,” Happy teases, pulling to the side of the road in front of a niche little bakery that reads _Barnes's Bakery_ in a pleasant text across the top. Tony huffs.

“You know I can't resist 'em,” Tony shoots back, before dodging out of the car.

He pastes a smile on his face in case any stray cameras catch him and he ducks into the bakery.

Despite the hipster appearance from the outside, the inside of the bakery is pleasant and not at all tipping into edgy. It's mostly blue and white tones with bold splashes of red, and the art on the walls, despite Tony's lack of any artistic interest, are mesmerising. The content seems to show action and movement but very subtly. It's almost like the panels of a comic book, but so much less showy and so much more meaningful. It's comics meeting impressionist. Which makes no sense as to why Tony suddenly wants to plant his ass at one of the white tables lining the walls. The atmosphere is almost hypnotic and as Tony's gaze flies over everything, he becomes more sure of the fact that he'll be visiting this place much more often.

“Hello, welcome to _Barnes's Bakery_! What can I do for you today?”

Tony's eyes stray from the blue walls and white lights, toward the warm voice behind the counter.

And promptly gets the air knocked out of him.

Standing there is a blonde, six-foot-something block of muscle, with tantalizing pink lips and long eyelashes that make Tony a bit woozy. Around a tiny, narrow waist, a light blue apron is tied tight, and a white shirt stretches across shoulders twice the size of the guy's waist. There's a floppy tuff of blonde hair obscuring the man's eyes a bit, and he flicks it out of the way, blue eyes bright.

There's a tiny name tag on the shirt and in dark red it says, in elegant writing, _Steve_.

Tony blinks at the greeting, then breathes out, “You could do a lot of things for me.”

The man's — _Steve, Steve, Steve, his name is Steve_ — cheeks go a little pink. “E-Excuse me?”

Tony mentally slaps himself. Do not come onto the random bakery employee. Do not take out your hangover no-filter tongue on the random bakery employee.

But god, is this man easy on the eyes.

“Uh, nothing,” Tony manages to say. One of the man's flawless eyebrows arch. Oh, god. “Anyway — Hi. I'm Tony.”

Steve gives a clueless, adorable smile back. “Hi, Tony, I'm Steve. What can I get for you today?”

“Muhflergh,” Tony says.

Steve blinks. “What?”

Is this — Is this really happening right now?

Okay, deep breaths. Tony Stark, playboy extraordinaire, can totally get over a little love-at-first-sight trip. No big deal.

Tony clears his throat. “Uh — I...”

Steve makes a noise. “Would you — Really, we can bake anything. And we have... Coffee, and stuff.”

That rings a bell.

“Yes! Yes, a — a cup of straight black, please,” Tony spits out and _damn it_ , this is _humiliating,_  but now Steve's smiling shyly at him and okay, wow, it's all worth it.

“Right up, Tony,” Steve hums, gliding over to the coffee machine behind him. He spins, his fitting jeans tight to his —

Tony coughs. “Is there a special today?”

Steve gives him an amused glance, his cheeks still a bit pink. “Tony, I hate to break it to you, but this is a bakery. There's not usually a special.”

Tony seriously considers turning around and throwing himself through the window.

“But,” Steve says slowly, turning and smiling a bit bashfully, “I'm willing to make one up for you. How about a box of these pan dulce? Our baker spent three years in Mexico perfecting the recipes. He even learned Spanish.”

And, honestly? Tony couldn't say no to anything this man asked.

God, he's ridiculous.

“Sure,” he blurts. Tony finally managed to give a smile. “And I'm sure it'll be delicious.”

“It will be,” Steve says, tone still shy but enthusiastic, as well. Tony can't help but smile wider. Steve returns it, a goofy spread of his lips. Tony's cheeks start hurting.

“Do you have your...” Steve vaguely motions to the cash register.

“Uh, yeah, shit, sorry — ” Tony fumbles his black Amex card out, handing it to Steve, who attempts to take it quickly, but their fingers brush, and Tony barely reigns in a gasp.

Steve's cheeks are burning red, and Tony watches as he scans the card with his eyes widening only a bit at the name on the card.

Right. Whole... Billionaire, genius, celebrity thing. God, and he's supposed to be some suave playboy, Steve must be thinking terrible things about him.

“Here's your coffee, and... Here's your concha. Enjoy, Mr. Stark.”

Tony just nods lamely before grabbing his card and his things, swiftly walking out.

When he's back in the car, Happy's sending him a look. “Boss, what were you doing in there? It's been twenty minutes, Miss Potts is gonna gnaw your head off!”

Tony's sipping the coffee as Happy informs him, and he's about to agree before the coffee hits his taste buds, and —

Oh.

That's some damn good coffee.

Tony moans. “Hap, I wish I could care, but I just met the love of my life.”

Happy, very unsubtly, rolls his eyes as he turns in his seat, because Tony says he's met the love of his life at least once a week (he's pretty sure he said it last night with that blonde) but shit.

Staring out the window as _Barnes's Bakery_ turns into another building against the Manhattan streets, Tony thinks this time it could be true.

 

—

 

He smiles at Tony. “The usual?”

Tony gives a weak smile to the jaw-dropping gorgeous man in front of him. He's not sure that the man's smile will ever not make his heart stop.

Or that his flexing back muscles won't ever make him salivate.

“I'm weak for them, Stevie,” he says, slipping off his sunglasses. The barista smiles wider at that. “Your baker knows how to bake 'em.”

Steve Rogers tilts his head back, not taking his twinkling eyes off of Tony. “You hear that, Sam?” he calls back.

Sam, the baker who lives to tease Tony about his completely subtle crush, yells, “Tell our "number one customer" to buy something different for a change!”

As Steve hands over the small, brown bag carrying a pink-frosted concha, Tony shrugs, shamelessly. “I like what I like.”

Steve chuckles, tone low, as he walks his way over to the coffee machine. “Which includes a disgusting cup of straight black,” he chirps, throwing an amused glance Tony's way. Tony feels his cheeks heat a bit, but refuses to shy away. Through the four months that he's known Steve, he still hasn't ran out of the bakery with nerves and if he starts now it's bad for self-esteem.

“I still can't believe you don't like coffee,” Tony shudders. “You're the best coffee maker in the world, and you don't like coffee. It's a disgrace, Rogers!”

Steve rolls his eyes, but it's a fond gesture that makes Tony's heart ring. Annoyingly.

“It's bitter to the tongue,” Steve says, nose scrunched up as he lets his tongue slip over his lips.

Tony barely maintains a groan.

“Well, I happen to like things that are bitter to the tongue.” But Steve's still blissfully oblivious as he furrows his eyebrows in confusion, and since Tony's never claimed to not be a coward, he makes an escape. “Bye, Stevie, bye, Sammy!”

Steve gives a short goodbye, mostly covered by Sam's, “You're our most frequent, not our favorite customer, Stark!”

 

—

 

“What's the story behind that one?” Tony asks casually, popping his head out to nod at a large painting of a tall figure. Steve sighs, scratching the back of his head bashfully again.

“Mr. Stark, you really don't have to do this,” he insists warily. “You've always been extremely kind and generous, but fixing our coffee machine with no charge is too much, and you're a — a _genius_ , you shouldn't have to be fixing our — our coffee machine, gee — ”

“It's Tony,” Tony interrupts. Then he ducks his head back out of the ancient machine. He squints at Steve, who squirms on spot.

Tony exhales. “I'm gonna be completely honest with you, Steve, okay? I have personally went on eBay and Amazon to find this vintage coffee machine and I have bought it despite its technological setbacks. I have attempted to make as good of a cup as you can over forty times now and I still haven't made a successful one. Steve, I may be the genius, but you're a mastermind. Not fixing this piece of caffeine history is not only a crime, it's a stupid move on my part. Your coffee is a godsend.”

Steve's cheeks are pink and he's got that adorable, cheesy grin on his face. “Gosh, Tony — ”

“Your compliments are still not gonna cut it,” Sam says from where he's appeared from the doorway. He frowns. “Or flirting. Stop flirting.”

Steve's cheeks turn even darker. Tony sighs wistfully.

“Anyway, you're getting free pink-frosted conchas and straight blacks for a week,” Sam says flatly. Tony makes a noise of protest, but Steve shakes his head, grinning.

“Buck's orders?” he hums. Sam gives a small smirk.

“Owner's orders,” he confirms. Tony scrunches his nose up.

“Well, whatever,” he scoffs. “There's always the tip jar. Oh! I do have one way you could totally repay me.”

Steve's eyes widen, an emotion sparking up that Tony barely catches. He clears his throat. “That — That so?”

Sam looks at Tony expectantly.

Tony's eyebrows furrow for a second at the odd reaction, but quickly shrugs it off. He gives his best charming smile. “The history behind that painting.”

Steve visibly deflates and Sam throws his hands up in the air before disappearing behind the backroom again.

Tony goes to question them but Steve quickly grins and says, “What does it look like to you? It's a tall man in red, and that's pretty much it. Actually inspired from when my friend Gabe Jones and I went to see the Guardians play which is just — wow, and...”

Tony, smiling wide, ducks back into the coffee machine, humming and laughing at all the appropriate places and feeling warmth settle in his chest as Steve continues to blabber on.

 

—

 

It's a few weeks later when Tony's met with another odd situation at _Barnes's Bakery._

He's at the front counter, staring at the man before him.

“Can I help you?” the guy asks. He has shoulder length brown hair, a bit of it pulled up to stay away from his face. His shoulders are broad, his eyes stormy blue, and one of his arms is made of metal. He's conventionally attractive, but —

“Where's Steve?” Tony asks.

“You must be Tony,” the guy remarks. Tony's eyebrows furrow. “I'm Bucky.”

Tony's eyes widen in realization. “As in Bucky Barnes?”

He's met the gorgeous Natasha Romanoff and the famous Peggy Carter, but he'd never met Bucky, the actual owner and Steve's (very emphasized) platonic soulmate.

Hmph.

“As in Bucky Barnes,” Bucky confirms. His voice has a heavy Brooklyn accent, the one that Tony only hears in Steve when he's yelling to Sam for a while. “I've heard a lotta 'bout you. Heard you fixed my coffee machine.”

“All good news, I hope?” Tony pipes, one brow arched, ignoring the coffee machine thing because he's only sucking the good out of that when Steve's around.

“Mostly,” Bucky smirks. “Anyways, Stevie's atta art convention. And Sam — ”

“ — is still here, Stark!” Sam calls from the back. “And Barnes, you're not paying yourself to just chat with the customers!”

“You make no sense, Wilson!” Bucky yells back, voice annoyed, but his eyes are beyond affectionate. Tony raises his eyebrows and Barnes glares at him. Tony grins.

“So whaddya want, Stark?” Bucky questions, leaning forward on the counter.

Tony hmphs. “Sam!”

“One pink concha, Barnes! And a straight black!”

Bucky arches a brow, but starts on it anyway. Very casually, Tony hums.

“So... Steve is pursuing his art stuff, huh?” he quires, concentrating on his nails. “Is he gonna be... gone more often?”

The usual little brown bag is set in front of him. “Most likely,” comes Barnes' dry tone. Tony tries to hide his pout.

“How much more is he going to be gone?” Tony presses.

He keeps his eyes acutely focuses on his nails, so when Bucky slams the coffee cup on the counter, he jumps.

“Considering that this convention is the beginning of his work at Timely Comics,” Bucky starts, leaning casually against the counter. “A lot more, I'm thinkin'.” Tony deflates.

“Oh,” he says. Instead of actively showing his disappointment, Tony shoves the cup in his face — only to instantly pull away with a scrunched-up nose because the coffee is disgusting because Steve didn't make it because everything sucks.

Barnes doesn't even look offended when Tony sets the cup back down. He just rolls his eyes, saying, “You and Stevie are both idiots. How long've you two even known each other?”

“Seven months, thirteen days, and 21 hours,” Tony says sourly. Then winces. Bucky rolls his eyes even harder.

“Exactly. I put his number on the bottom of that cup. Don't disappoint, Stark,” Bucky warns. Tony gapes at him.

“Don't disappoint, Stark!” Sam repeats. Bucky smiles a bit, then turns stern again when he realizes Tony's still staring at him.

“Well? Go! Call Steve tonight, he's free on Friday, so ask him then,” Bucky informs. “Now, get outta my bakery.”

Tony does, hand wrapped around the worst-tasting coffee he's ever received at _Barnes's Bakery_.

 

—

 

On Friday, Tony finally throws the cup away. Barnes and Wilson played a cute joke, but it wasn't that funny to Tony's pining heart.

Maybe in another universe he'd be stupid enough, but in this one he knows the truth.

He knows that he'll never deserve someone like Steve Rogers.

 

—

 

Two months later and Tony's late to another board meeting.

Pepper's gonna have his skin.

Mind racing on excuses, he instinctively tells Happy to stop at the bakery and as he's opening the door to the building, he realizes what he's doing.

Well, too late now, he thinks to himself as he dodges into the bakery.

The man at the counter has dirty blonde hair in a stuck-in-the-00's style that Tony finds slightly annoying. He's fingering the pages of a book, but it's upside down, so Tony questions the credibility of the action.

“Hey, welcome to _Barnes's Bakery_ ” he says, not glancing up, and Tony just really wants to yell, _where the hell is Steve._

“Hi, can I get a pink pan dulce and a straight black?” he asks, cutting to the chase because Steve isn't here so what's the point of smalltalk?

The guy looks up at his voice, though, and his eyes widen. Tony squints at the name tag and mentally ah's — Clint is Natasha's best friend, who apparently took Steve's place.

Yay.

“Shit. You're Tony Stark,” Clint straightens, eyebrow arching.

Tony sighs. It's not like Steve or Natasha was rattling about him to Clint, so Clint must be after some information of genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Tony Stark. Tony layers on a charming grin.

“That's my name, don't wear it out,” he winks at Clint, leaning softly on the counter. “What do you want, picture, autograph? I don't sign skin unless it's considered appropriate for cameras, my CEO made it a rule.”

“I don't want any of that shit, Stark,” Clint laughs, amused. “But you know who does want something from you? Bucky Barnes, and what he wants is your head on a platter, so I'll do you a solid and go make your order quick.”

Tony's eyebrows furrow. “Why would Bucky want my — ”

“IS THAT FUCKING STARK?” yells a Brooklyn-accented voice from the back. Tony recoils, confused.

Clint winces. “Can't help you now.”

The backroom's door swings open and out storms Bucky Barnes, being held back by a struggling Sam Wilson. Tony takes a step back.

“What the fuck d'you think you're doin' here?” Bucky growls from behind Sam. Tony's eyes widen even further.

“I'm — I'm just here for the usual, Barnes,” Tony says, tone just a bit defensive.

Bucky curses him and Sam's jaw clenches. “Don't play cute, Stark. We thought... You're not welcome around here anymore.”

Tony looks on, confused and frustrated. “What the hell are you guys talking about?”

“Maybe by how you didn't think to even text Steve that you weren't interested?” Bucky growls. “How you left the guy mopin' for weeks because you couldn't take the time outta your "busy" schedule to call him? He was so — so fucking torn.”

Tony's eyes widen, mouth gaping open. Clint's on the side, obviously listening in, but finishing his order.

“He — He was moping?” Tony repeats, voice small. He feels like this is another joke, another prank, but with Clint's tense back, Bucky's flared nostrils, and the sad look in Sam's eyes, he feels dread dawning on him.

“Yeah, he was fucking mopin', we tell him we gave you his number, and you don't do a single thing to show any interest in usin' it,” Bucky huffs.

Tony blinks, rapidly. “I thought — I thought you guys were pulling one on me.”

And that makes Bucky stop his huffing and puffing. Sam sighs, looking down, and Clint sets his stuff down before going into the backroom. Tony swallows, dryly.

Bucky stares at him for awhile, before motioning to his order. “You should go.”

Tony feels his heart cave in his chest. “But — But if you're serious — ”

“You should go, Tony,” Sam cuts in softly. “I... We don't want Steve to have to go through the rejection process again, okay? He really liked you.”

 _He really_ **_liked_ ** _you._

Tony gets it.

Tony grabs his stuff, tossing the money needed on the counter and exits the building, throwing the coffee away before he even takes a sip because he knows, compared to Steve's, it's gonna taste like shit.

 

—

 

“So, you gave up on him? Just like that?”

Tony huffs at Rhodey. “Honeybear, it was over — before it even started. Steve Rogers and I were just a fantasy.”

“Are just a fantasy,” Rhodey clarifies, taking a swig of beer.

“Were,” Tony says under his breath.

“Are.”

“Were.”

“Are,” Rhodey shoots, then groans. “God, we're older than forty-year-old men and we're acting like children.”

Tony scoffs. “You're older than forty years old. I'm thirty-eight. Forever.”

“Riiiiight,” Rhodey drawls. “Anyway, don't change the subject! You and this Steve-guy! Why aren't you chasing after him?”

“Because he's probably already forgotten about me, gummy bear,” Tony remarks, smiling in the saddest winning way. Rhodey arches one eyebrow.

“Really? You think he forgot about you? Sorry, man, that just doesn't sound right after you told me that story when you went back to the bakery to his friends,” Rhodey counters skeptically. Tony looks away.

“Well, even if he didn't, I'm a public figure to a billion dollar company — if he wanted to get in contact, he already would've,” Tony dismisses, and Rhodey's opening his mouth to argue that, but Tony just puts a hand up. “Please, Rhodey, can we just — not? Right now?”

Rhodey, although grudgingly, moves on.

 

—————

 

“Comics,” Tony repeats.

Pepper fails to subtly rolls her eyes. “This is important, Tony. With the extensions we've been making to reach out to the public for the new StarkPhones, you need to attend — ”

“An art gallery,” Tony says slowly, “about comics.”

Pepper herds him out of Stark Tower's lobby doors. “Yes. In Brooklyn. And you're going.”

Tony's pouting as they walk toward the awaiting car and Happy.

Tony slumps as he ducks his head to go in the car. “Do you ever feel like a child even when you're in your thirties?”

“You're in your forties,” Happy corrects, cheerfully. Tony sighs.

“Thank you for that, Mr. Hogan.”

Pepper slides in across from him. “Tomorrow night. Nine o'clock. Be there.”

Tony huffs. “Yes, mom.”

Pepper suppresses a smile.

 

—

 

When tomorrow night at nine o'clock arrives, Happy drops him off at the comic art gallery thingy and Tony feels highly aware of not having a plus one after seeing every other guest filing in with someone on their arm.

He leans down by the window. “Happy. Come out and be my date.”

Happy gives him a look before driving away. Tony should hire better employees, this disrespect is unfathomable.

Sighing, he slides his glasses on and smiles at the few cameras loitering around the front of the gallery building. As soon as he sets foot in the building, he's being led somewhere else.

“Mr. Stark,” a tall, slender woman greets him. “It's an honor for us to have you this evening.”

“It's a pleasure to be here,” he smiles, mentally preparing himself for an hour or two more of this mindless speaking.

She leads him to a part of the gallery with lines of exhibiting pieces. “These pieces are some of the foundations of Timely Comics. Starting from this corner is where the very first pieces were being shared. As you make your way down the room, feel free to ask for any information about a piece, or a guide to lead you more into the gallery.”

Tony thanks her and slides on a pair of glasses that he totally did not buy just to look sophisticated for these kinds of things, no, sir, he just needs the help.

Tony idly wanders around the room, picking up slight conversation here and there, grinning charmingly at men and women and commenting to them about certain panels and covers. It's definitely not how Tony would've planned to spend a Saturday night, but he supposes it's better than being at one of the stuffy galleries where there's seemingly endless amounts of the same art over and over again.

He smiles a bit. At least he can appreciate the bulging thigh muscles of some of these heroes.

“Mr. Stark?” the same woman from before asks from behind him. “A group of the artists are in the main foyer if you would like to see some of the faces behind these pieces.”

Tony lifts his eyebrows and gestures. “Lead the way.”

Standing primly on a small stage at the front of the room is a line of artists, next to some of their comic covers. Tony only barely contains rolling his eyes at a couple of them that are flaunting their covers of the _Avengers_ comics like they're the best thing since Cassat's _Summertime_.

His eyes rove down the row, eyeing the comics next to them, when he sets his eyes on a beautiful rendition of an older _Iron Man_ comic. He slides off his unneeded glasses in awe. The art of the cover is contrasting, the old style in the background and the newer styles present in the character's suit. The armor glints proudly in the middle, not consuming the image, but obviously the main focus of the work. The usually robotic looking suit seems to actually have a man underneath it. It speaks wonders. Tony doesn't even think you'd have to flip through some pages to know if the rest of the art was sufficient or not.

He finds himself smiling softly at the cover and, as he makes his way over to it, his eyes raise to see the artist only to meet blue eyes that are already staring into his own.

Tony's jaw slackens.

Steve Rogers's eyes widen.

They stay staring at each other for half a moment before Steve hurriedly snaps his gaze away and excuses himself before disappearing from view. Some of the proctors call after him.

Tony finally gains control of himself and snaps his jaw shut.

“Who is — ” He gestures wildly to Steve's covers.

One of the proctors smiles. “Steve Rogers? He's fairly new to Timely Comics, but his work has changed the — ”

Tony nods jerkily. “Thanks, I just have to — ”

Tony dodges away, swimming through the crowd to get behind the stage. His eyes rove over the heads until his eyes land on a familiar head of blonde hair disappearing out of one of the galleries into one of the exits's foyers.

Tony paces after him, rushing into the large, empty room. “Steve!”

Steve freezes. Slowly turns.

“Hi.”

Tony's heart seems to quicken at the sight of those wide, blue eyes he hasn't seen in so long.

“Hey,” Tony exhales.

Tony's at a loss for words. Steve — funny, talented, kind Steve —is standing not even five yards away from him.

God, he's gorgeous.

And tense. Tony briefly recalls the last time he was at _Barnes's Bakery._

_He was so — so fucking torn._

Tony wets his lips. “I— Do— You…” His jaw clenched in frustration. “It's been awhile,” he finally settles on.

Steve gazes at him. Then looks away. “Yeah,” he clears his throat. “Yeah, pretty long.”

It's a few more seconds before Steve opens his mouth again and Tony feels red hot fear at the idea of Steve going, leaving, walking out of his life again, this time for good, so he blurts the first thing that comes to mind.

“I saw your art.”

Steve's mouth shuts. Blinks. “Oh?”

Tony nods, hurriedly. “It's... It's _amazing,_  Steve. I mean— It always was, your art has always left me breathless, but with this. This comic art style, you've really… Your talent is heartbreakingly prevalent.”

Steve's eyes soften dramatically and his cheeks bloom pink. The corners of Tony's lips twitch at the familiar behavior.

Steve gnaws his bottom lip. “You — You think? I know I wasn't the best at the edgy abstract art Bucky always wanted me to make for the bakery and I'm not saying I'm any better at the sequences that we have to make for comics, but I've definitely practiced this style more and I'm confident enough in it to say it's not too cheesy or — or an overused style — not that my co-workers overuse styles — !”

“Steve,” Tony interrupts, softly, “your art is new but still gorgeous. Like it always has been.”

Steve snaps his mouth shut. His cheeks darken. “Nothing is original anymore,” he argues faintly, smiling a bit.

Tony shrugs nonchalantly. “Yet you still seem to be like nothing I've ever seen before.”

Steve, cheeks still brick red, gives him the smallest but brightest smile Tony's ever received.

Tony can't help himself.

“Did you — ” He cut himself off quickly. Shakes his head. He can't do this — not to Steve nor himself.

But Steve loses his beautiful blush, loses the smile. His lips even turn down a bit at the corners. Concentrated, he speaks slowly, “What is it, Tony?”

Tony determinedly faces him. Seizes onto a different conversation. “You really don't work at Barnes's anymore?”

Judging by the look on Steve's face, that wasn't the best conversation to start either.

Steve looks away. “No. No, I don't. This is… This is me, now.”

“Creator with jaw dropping artistic skills. Which,” Tony tries at humor, “almost match your coffee-making skills.”

That seems to twist Steve's expression even further. Tony mentally flails around, with his mouth running on its own.

“Did I mention I finally met Barnes? He was really something else, so was Clint Barton. I saw Sam again, too, but — ” Tony finally stops rambling when he notices just how broken Steve's expression is. “Oh my god, Steve, what the hell did I say, I'm so sorry, I'm such an asshole, shit, please don't cry — ”

“I'm not crying,” insists Steve, while his voice cracks. Tony is in front of him in an instant, hands hovering above his arms, aching to touch but careful of Steve's boundaries.

“Really, Steve, what the hell did I say — ”

“Tony,” Steve interjects, eyes turning moist and red, and Tony's heart breaks at the sound of Steve's voice when he said his name, “I'm — I'm fine.”

Tony gives Steve a short, sad smile. “You really don't seem to be, Steve.”

Steve's eyebrows furrow in, but not in disappointment or anger, but in frustration. “Tony, please just — This is on me, okay? I should… I should be the one apologizing, okay, because I'm such a mess that I can't even — god, I hate myself.”

“Hey, no, no, no,” Tony reassures gently. “No hating yourself, okay, you're literally an angel, no hating angels, Stevie, this is important — ”

Steve laughs wetly at that. “Your logic is ground-breaking.”

“I am a genius, after all,” Tony jokes, arrogantly. Steve gives him a smile, but it's lacking the usual genuineness. The Steve factor of it.

Steve sighs, softly, looking at the ground between them. “I'm — I'm sorry, Tony. I really am. We were talking really great, for a second there, but… I can't — I can't just be friends with you.”

Tony's chest aches and he slowly pulls away from Steve. “I — What do you mean?”

Steve purses his lips, looking away from Tony. “Tony. Tony, I know you visited the bakery my first day at Timely Comics.”

It's getting harder for Tony to breathe.

“And…” Steve says shakily, “And I know Bucky gave you my phone number.”

Tony stays silent.

“And I know you never used it,” Steve finishes. He laughs hollowly. “I know that one for sure.”

Tony shakes his head. “I — Steve, I couldn't — ”

“I'm sorry, Tony, but I really can't just — ” Steve straightens, his expression settling into a brave face, but his eyes are still red and are full of just… _longing_.

Tony's lips part.

_“I can't just be friends with you.”_

Where Tony had originally heard the remark as an apology, where Steve just couldn't be friends with Tony Stark, he now hears it for what it is.

A plea. It's Steve begging Tony to not make him go through the process of being _just friends._

Steve's still talking.

“ — and it was so embarrassing because I couldn't even bear watching Sam making the pink conchas, like what the — ”

Tony closes the gap between Steve and himself, and cups Steve's cheeks. He exhales, shakily, and Steve's eyes widen, his cheeks flush, with his mouth gaping open.

“Shove me away if I'm reading this wrong,” Tony murmurs.

Steve doesn't do a thing besides pressing his lips together gently.

Tony feels hope spark in his chest and he swallows before leaning in.

When their lips meet, it's worth all of Tony's agonizing about whether or not he'd ever get to experience this.

Tony's tentative at first, and he only gently moves his lips against Steve's originally unresponsive ones. But when Steve finally moves his, finding rhythm with Tony's, it's like a dam breaks.

Tony clutches harder at Steve while Steve's arms wrap around Tony's waist, their lips still in a tight lock. Steve grips Tony like a lifeline and Tony smiles into the kiss. Steve, soon, laughs into it, breathlessly.

Steve pushes just an inch away but Tony pulls him back for a second kiss. Steve complies, happily.

Eventually, Tony glumly lets Steve detach himself from Tony. However, when Steve grins, brightly, at Tony, Tony doesn't regret letting him pull away for a single second.

“Tony — I — _What_?”

Tony laughs, loud and spirited. “Steve, when Barnes gave me your number all those months ago, I thought he was pranking me or something. I didn't — I _never_ thought that you would like me back.”

Steve blinks, then tugs Tony even closer. “Tony, I was always head over heels infatuated with you. I still am.”

Something takes over Tony's chest, a deep, warming feeling overwhelming his body and mind and he can't help the beam he gives to Steve.

“Well, then, prove it, barista,” he whispers, and Steve gladly takes him up on the challenge.

 

—

 

A week or so later, Tony's late to another board meeting.

“Pep, darling, pudding cup,” he starts. “You know I'd never intentionally be a pain in your ass, so please forgive me, I'll be there in a blink of an eye, seriously!”

As soon as he hangs up, Happy rolls his eyes. “I'm going to Barnes's first, don't get your panties in a twist.”

Tony grins.

When Tony strides in, the first face he sees is Bucky Barnes's, and it's annoyed.

“Where's Carol?” Tony pouts, because her face is much better to see this early in the morning rather than Barnes's.

Barnes glares at him. “Shut it, Stark. Why are you even coming here — ”

“Is that any way to talk to a customer?” Sam calls from the back.

Barnes purses his lips, but his eyes radiate affection. “My bakery, my rules, Wilson!”

Tony smirks. “How's paradise?”

“I could ask you the same,” Barnes retorts as he walks toward the coffee machine. Simultaneously, a blonde head pops out from the backroom. Tony feels his lips stretch into a wider smile.

Tony tsks. “Can you let _him_ make that for me, sir?”

Steve Rogers edges around the counter and drops a kiss on Tony's lips. As per usual, upon this action from Steve, Tony thinks: _muflergh._

Barnes gags. “Not in front of the cupcakes, assholes!”

“Are they making out again?” Sam yells. “You can legally kick them out for that, Barnes!”

“Hate act,” Steve shoots before diving in for another kiss. Tony laughs which makes Steve pull away.

Tony gives him a short smack on the ass. Barnes yells. “Go make me coffee, hot stuff, and maybe you'll get my number.”

Steve smiles brightly at him.

(Later, Pepper yells at him. Happy laughs while she does.

Tony's irrevocably happy, still.)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! kudos, bookmarks, and comments are appreciated!! -RR


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